


Ground Zero

by uwume



Category: Until Dawn (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Dies, BIG sad boy hours, Blood and Gore, Guilt, Hurt No Comfort, Implied Murder, M/M, Mike has feelings for Chris, Psychological Trauma, Trauma, and i'm going to hell obviously, it was a drabble and i expanded on it, mike and chris have their own way to say goodbye to each other, mike calls chris 'topher, this is the bad ending where all the choices were all horrible, this makes me sad..., you can make it sadder by listening to butterfly's repose by zabawa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-29
Updated: 2020-06-29
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:33:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24983140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uwume/pseuds/uwume
Summary: Things just seem to go downhill.
Relationships: Chris Hartley/Mike Munroe
Comments: 4
Kudos: 7





	Ground Zero

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MagnetHead](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagnetHead/gifts).



> To my lovely rp partner who had become a big part of my life, became my friend and also brought back a love for a fandom that I really enjoy :) 
> 
> RIP to you for having to read this a second time with it expanded on.

Mike was pacing, walking the expanse of the ornately furnished living room. Waiting was the worst part of this whole ordeal. Waiting meant being closer to dying at the hands of the wendigo or whatever the fuck the flamethrower guy was spouting about before disappearing with Chris to collect the missing party of their group from the shed. His own thoughts and guilt bubbling up as he chewed on his fingernails before he remembered to take his fingers out of his mouth. 

He shouldn’t have left Josh out there, _he shouldn’t have left Josh out there._

It was a mantra he was beginning to hate hearing circling and trapped in the confines of his head as he continued his trek along the trail he left with his pacing. Emily was uncharacteristically quiet as Sam fretted over her but soon enough the waiting probably got to the blond as well. He watched as she fidgeted before standing up, helping Emily to her feet before telling him that they would go downstairs to wait. Ushering the remaining of what was last of their friends, what a maddening thought that was, to a makeshift safe room downstairs. Leaving Mike to go collect Ashley from the door. It was something to do. Something to move towards so he did so without hesitation. Following the winding halls that used to hold so many fond memories and now signaled terror whenever they turned the corner. Lost in those saddening thoughts, he nearly bumped into the redhead as she finally decided to shuffle her way back. Mike furrowed his brow at the hunched sight. 

“Hey,” No response, she side-stepped him before making her way to follow everyone else. “Hey, Ash,” He tried again, only receiving a twitch of a shoulder before she disappeared down the stairs after Sam and Emily. Something about that...didn’t sit right. It curdled the acid in his stomach before burning away the skin and seeping down his body. His insides felt like they were being punctured as the weight seemed to crush around his body. Mike steeled himself, planting his feet against the ground, not willing himself to follow after her. Whatever was bothering her, Sam would deal with it. They all were going through this bullshit so it could’ve been a number of things. His eyes locked on the stairs for a moment before he turned back towards the direction of the door that Chris had left through with the strange hobbling man. 

The glass was foggy once he got there, the sight on the other side had him pausing. A form wrapped in familiar jackets slouched against the ground. The unmistakable color of blood splattered brightly against the porch and the snow. For someone so young, he definitely shouldn’t be used to the sight of blood but with that familiarity also came the fear that clawed his throat. His hands quickly came to wrap around the door handle, twisting it to push it open.

Chris was _hurt_ . Chris was hurt and _vulnerable_. 

Locked. 

The door was locked. Why was it locked? It shouldn’t have been locked. They were coming right back, and wendigos obviously didn’t have a problem breaking through whatever to get what they wanted. Anger simmered under his skin, his gaze snapping back down the hallway. Eyes burning through the wood of the corner as if would do any damage to the culprit. With a few shaky breaths, he turned back to the door. Hurriedly opening the lock before stumbling out into the snowy hell that they were all trapped in. Careful not to slip on the amount of blood that was slowly becoming icy with the air dropping lower. His hand hovering over the pistol as he took trembling steps nearly dropping before he got to the figure just wading in the snow. 

“Chris, _Chris_!” He called out, dropping his voice down into a hiss when he remembered what was stalking all of them in the night. No response. His heart was thundering in his chest, nearly bursting through his rib cage as he scrambled over to him. Ignoring the blood that stained his own hands as he fumbled to grab his arm. “Chris, c’mon, we have to--” His words were cut short as something caught his eyes. Just a quick look from the corner of his eyes and he nearly broke down then and there. 

Familiar tuft of blonde hair, the shattered glasses, the blue eyes that were dulled out, his scarred nose, his opened mouth. Tears began to bubble up in his eyes, the more he stared at it just sitting a few feet away from where the rest of his body lay. A choked noise escaped him as he slowly trailed his hand up, feeling the stump of his neck and letting his hands become more coated with blood. 

No, no, no, no. Not him. 

His breaths were coming short as he brought his wobbly hand back. Dropping the headless body without any more preamble before an earth-shattering scream escaped his throat. It didn’t even sound like his own voice, it didn’t even sound _human_ the more that he let all his emotions out. Realizing he’d never see those lips quirk up into a smile, his eyes sparkling when he told a joke, those hands always reaching to touch someone. 

“No, no, no, no.” It was his mantra now as he felt a sob rack through his chest as he moved to clutch him. “Please god, not _him_. Take me. Take _me_ , please.” He cried out, tears sticking to his skin as he slowly crawled over to where the head rested. Swiping his hand against the snow before he carefully picked up the head, bringing it close for a moment and pressing their foreheads together as he shuddered. Bringing the head to cradle in the crook of his arm before moving back to the body, trying to heave Chris’s body with him so he could bring it inside. The body’s weight had become heavier despite the missing head and he found himself sinking into the blood-soaked snow more than he could count as he tried to drag the body out of the now with his one free hand. His chest slowly caving in and his breathing becoming shallower with every step he took and the tears that trailed their way down his face. 

At this point, he didn’t care. He didn’t care if all his cries and loud mantra alerted the creatures that lurked just beyond the shroud of trees. He didn’t care if he died. Slower than he would’ve liked, he finally made his way with Chris in tow behind him into the lodge once more. The chill of the air surrounding the place became all the more stifling with every step he took and every word and letter he screamed out. His voice became more hoarse as it echoed around the empty lodge with every breath he took. The pain was immense, it was consuming. 

He was too late. 

Mike swiped his hand over his face, ignoring the cakey feeling of blood that his fingers and palm left behind on his cheek. He set the head down on the couch before hauling the rest of Chris just underneath. “I’m so, so sorry,” He apologized but nothing but silence hummed around him. Bringing his hands to peel the bloodied coat from his body, an intrusive thought sliding in and making him turn his head to empty the contents of his stomach against the wood paneling. 

_He wouldn’t need it anymore._

“I should’ve…” Another cry broke out over the thick silence that hung in the air as he finally peeled himself off the floor and back to settle against the couch. Bringing Chris’s coat up to his nose, trying to catch even the slightest of the familiar scent he grew to love. Heaving out a dry sound when nothing but the sickly stench of blood hit his nose. “Sorry, sorry…” He let out shakily, the only word he knew now as he pulled off the lackluster jacket he found in the sanatorium before pulling on Chris’s warm one. Ignoring the blood that caked it as he stared at Chris whose face was turned away. He didn’t think he could handle it, looking at him like that once more. He ripped the blanket from the back arch of the couch before settling it over Chris, tucking him in gently before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

He was late. He was late _again_. 

He had failed another one of his friends. 

His hand reached to the blanket, curling around it before tugging it up further. To cover the jagged line of where the creature’s nails broke through. He couldn’t help the stifled noise that escaped him, his voice becoming too hurt to use. Shakily he bent down, clutching where his arm rested underneath the blanket. Closing his eyes as he pressed his lips against the side of his head, letting it linger for a moment before he finally pulled away. Without another word and without turning the severed head, he brought his hand up and closed Chris’s eyes for him. “Sleep...Sleep well, 'Topher…” He whispered out brokenly, his words too quiet for his own liking as he made his way to stand. “See...See you later, alligator…” The words felt hollow especially when Chris couldn’t respond back with a smile and a faux salute his way. He built up his courage once again, pulling the pistol from where he had it in the back of his jeans. Clutching his hand around it tightly before he finally got on his feet and made his way with a purpose down the spiral of stairs. 

Two gunshots fired down in the _safe_ room that day.

The mines were filled with the dead bodies of friends. 

A large blaze engulfed the lodge just hours later. 

And as Mike sat in those engulfed flames watching as the wendigos screeched and howled, resting near the couch where Chris was. Sam’s lifeless body settled in the middle of the lodge, her eyes glassy. He couldn’t really say that he cared that it ended this way as he reached over to gently take the other’s hand. 

“In...in a while, crocodile…” He wheezed out before he slowly felt himself drift off as flames licked across his skin. 


End file.
